temples, now to the God of Power, then to the God of Wisdom, and
again to the God of Justice. They had yet to learn that they were
worshiping the part and not the whole; they were worshiping the rays and
not the Light Itself.

Then Jesus came, and men understood. By His words and His deeds, by His
life and His death, He revealed the whole truth. God is Power and Wisdom
and Justice--but He is more. In a European churchyard there stands a
monument erected by a poet to his wife. It bears the inscription:

She was----,
But words are wanting to say what!
Think what a wife should be
And she was that!

_God is----!_
_God is--what?_

He is----,
But words are wanting to say what!
Think what a God should be
And He is that!

Jesus filled in the age-long blank; He filled it in,
not in cold language, but in warm life. Many attempts
have been made to translate His definition
from the terms of life into the terms of language.
Only once have those attempts been even approximately
successful. The words on the perforated
bookmarker represent the best answer that human
speech has ever given to the question.

_God is----_

_God is--what?_

_GOD--IS--LOVE!_

V

Rodney Steele met again the girl--ripened now into the full glory of
womanhood--from whom he had been so cruelly separated. He felt that it
was too late to right the earlier wrong; and, in any case, his life was
too embittered to offer her now. But he rejoiced in her friendship, and,
one day, opened his heart to her.

'Madge,' he said, 'I am furious with Fate. Life is chaos. Shall I tell
you of what it reminds me? When I was last in Florence I was invited to
the dress rehearsal of "Figli Di Re." I took my seat in the stalls of
the huge empty opera house. The members of the orchestra were all in
their places. Pandemonium reigned! Each man was playing little snatches
of the score before him, all in the same key, but with no attempt at
time, tune or order. The piping of the flute, the sighing of the fiddle,
the grunt of the double bass, the clear call of the cornet, the bray of
the trombones, all went on together. The confused hubbub of sound was
indescribable. Suddenly a slim, alert figure leaped upon the estrade and
struck the desk sharply with a baton. It was the maestro! There was
instant silence. He looked to the right; looked to the left; raised his
baton; and lo! full, rich, sweet, melodious, blending in perfect
harmony,